


let it beat baby breathe

by thispieceofmind



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Riding, i cant tag: a series, top!Louis, what do yoU WANT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 02:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thispieceofmind/pseuds/thispieceofmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry rides Louis in just his bandana.<br/><em> “It suits you, y’know.”</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	let it beat baby breathe

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is but I do know that it's for [britta](http://tommoholics.tumblr.com)  because she asked and I love her lots and lots and lots. 
> 
> also [this](http://eroticlou.tumblr.com/tagged/bandana) is important for reference 
> 
>    
> Enjoy guys!! Just a quick one :D

**let it beat baby breathe**

“It suits you, y’know.” Louis takes the bandana out of Harry’s hands.

“You think?” Harry asks, eyes lighting up a little, crooked smile edging onto his face slowly, in the way that goosebumps crawl up your body when you're cold – smooth and sly. 

“Better than those headbands that you’re so obsessed with,” Louis snorts, smoothing the American flag fabric in his hands and stretching out like a starfish on the big queen bed of the hotel. The sheets are cool on his warm back, and the pillows are fluffy. Hotels can be quite nice sometimes, Louis thinks. 

“You like them,” Harry argues, digging through his bag on the floor and pulling on boxer briefs and joggers. 

“Harry darling, _you_ like them.” 

Harry pouts. “You say I look cute with all my curlies!” He’s obviously adamant to prove his point. And he’s not entirely wrong, either. 

Louis sighs as the bed dips with Harry’s weight. He cards through Harry’s slightly damp hair once his head is on Louis’ bare chest. “You always look cute with all your curlies.”

“Is that an admittance?” 

“I’ve admitted and confirmed nothing.”

“Stubborn,” Harry whispers against Louis’ neck. “Always so stubborn.”

Louis scratches the back of his neck lightly, just to get him to shiver because he knows he always does. He feels Harry tremble against his body and he presses his lips gently to the top of Harry’s head. He takes the bandana and places it haphazardly on Harry’s face. Harry opens his eyes and blinks. “Put it back on. I’ve said it suits you. I’ll allow that you’re cute in it.”

Harry laughs and tugs it over his head and around his neck, and then pushes it back over his face to hold his hair back. Louis grins at him and gets that twist in his stomach at the goofy smile he gets in return. Harry curls further into Louis' side, breathing a hot yawn onto Louis' skin. Louis looks down at him in that ridiculous, fond way, and he asks, “Tired, love?”

Harry hums some kind of garbled agreement into his pec. 

“Sleep?”

Harry blinks up at him owlishly, eyelashes brushing his cheeks, irises glassy. Louis cocks his head, and Harry nods. Louis toys with the hairs at the back of his neck, plays with the tie of that damn bandana, and leans down to press a kiss to Harry's forehead. Louis flicks the lamp off beside the bed, and they fall asleep like that, in the down duvet of the hotel. 

In the morning, Harry's still got the bandana on, his hair mussed from sleeping with it wet and pulled back, but his curls are still pushed back from his face, and Louis can’t stop staring as he waits for the alarm that's due in about a minute. When a song starts blaring from Harry’s phone in the dock on the night table, he blinks groggily awake, and Louis sends him the softest of smiles, taking the bandana off his head and spinning it in his fingers. 

“Extra cute when you woke up today, Harry,” he comments. 

Harry stops his phone from making a ruckus. “Do you really like it that much?”

Louis blinks coyly. “Like what?”

Harry smirks at him, shakes his head knowingly. “Nothing.”

Louis grins. “That's what I thought.”

Harry wears it again. 

* * * 

It lasts all week. Louis plays dumb and Harry won’t take the damn thing off. (Louis doesn’t know if he's winning or losing this stupid game.) It’s on a Friday when Louis breaks. The crowd that night was particularly rowdy and loud, and Louis kept looking at Harry because he was wearing that fucking bandana, stars plastered onto his forehead and eyes wide and exposed.  The glances were sneaked, but Louis can concede that they were worth it. 

When they’re in the van on the way back to the hotel, Louis’ hand won't leave Harry's knee, and the smirk won’t leave Harry’s face. Niall laughs at them, and Zayn and Liam are busy laughing at each other in the Captain's seats. They’re all a little jittery, like they always are after a show, and when the car pulls up to whatever swanky hotel they’re staying at for the next two days, they pile out and into the elevator, Louis’ hand shifting from Harry’s knee to the small of his back. 

They basically run to their room, Harry tripping over his feet and Louis tittering at him, grabbing his hand and swiping the key card without second thought. And then Louis is pushing Harry up against the door, and he gets the rush. The rush of knowing that Harry could easily push from his grip because he’s bigger, so much bigger, but wouldn’t. Won’t. 

Louis stares up at him and wonders if he’s going to speak. He doesn’t, so Louis starts at his neck with sharp canines and smooth lips, waiting. 

It takes until his jaw for Harry to breathe, choked, “I win.”

“Win what, darling?” Louis answers, careful not to bite down too sharply or suck too hard. He pushes up Harry’s wife beater and thumbs at his hip bone. _Might as well..._

“You know,” Harry whines. 

Louis cocks his head and revels when Harry gets squirmy. He loves when he squirms. Louis still hasn't kissed him. “I’m sorry sweetheart, but I really don't know.”

Harry huffs a breath and lets his head hit the door. “Can you kiss me, please?”

Louis doesn’t lose. He smiles gently and moves Harry’s hands from where they're flat against the door to the southernmost part of his back. “Always.” His voice his light, but his lips are heavy against Harry’s, licking at him incessantly and letting Harry squeeze his bum. Louis keeps rubbing at Harry’s hip, feeling his underlying tension, ready for it to uncoil, ready for him to fall apart. 

Harry pulls apart with a furrowed brow, and Louis thumbs it away. “What do you need, Harry?”

“You, Lou. Always you.” He’s breathless. His eyes are wide. Louis loves him. 

“How, baby?”

Harry closes his eyes and that line between his eyebrows comes back. Louis reaches up on the very tips of his toes to kiss it away. “Whatever, Lou. I just need–”

Louis cuts him off before he chokes on his tongue. He presses his lips just gently to Harry’s, but pulls off after just a second. “Hey. Take your kit off, yeah? And then sit up on your knees on the bed and get yourself ready for me. Can you do that?”

Harry nods frantically, and Louis stills him with another steady hand on his hip. He leans up again, lips grazing Harry's ear. “And leave it on, yeah?”

Harry is not yet overwhelmed enough to spare a smirk.

He plods over to the bed, gangly and awkward as always, peeling off his shirt and kicking his way out of his jeans. He finds the lube on the bedside table where Louis had set it earlier in the day, and he shifts around on the soft duvet so he’s on his knees and his cock is curling upward between his legs. 

Louis watches him from the doorway, sees how no hair falls into his face because it’s pulled back, loves the way his pretty green eyes are exposed. He thinks about what he wants, what he’s going to make Harry do, and peels off his tank top as he watches Harry finger himself, whining lowly as he twists his arm behind his back and reach in a way that he knows isn’t fun. He also knows how much Harry loves it, how he loves the way he has to work for it, and how it’s never, ever enough. 

Louis lets his basketball shorts fall to the ground, pulling the drawstrings loose and throwing them on their already messy bags. By the time he’s stroked his cock a few times and is looking up, Harry has already worked his way up to three fingers, and he’s wearing a helplessly wrecked expression and a small bead of sweat on his forehead. His breath is quiet and his whimpers are low. 

“Lou, please.”

His eyes are desperate. Louis loves it. 

He lets the smallest of smiles spread across his face, and soon enough he’s by Harry’s side, kneeling right next to him and smoothing a warm hand down Harry’s hot skin, right on the bicep of the arm that’s working so hard behind him. When he finds he can’t smooth back his hair because of that fucking _bandana,_ he opts for scratching the back of Harry’s neck and playing with the loose hairs there. 

“That’s it, love,” Louis coos. “Y’almost there?”

“I’m there, I’m there, Lou,” Harry chants, eyebrows knit and free hand fisted in the sheets to stop himself from touching his cock, knowing that Louis wouldn’t like it and knowing that it’s well worth the wait. 

“You’re gonna ride me, all right darling?” 

Harry just groans as he twists his fingers, and Louis takes that as a good enough response, so he lays back on the big bed of the hotel. Harry pulls out his fingers with zero finesse at all, wiping his fingers on the duvet and causing Louis to feel bad for the poor sod who has to clean up after them. Harry walks his fingers up Louis’ thighs as he crawls up the bed, licking his lips and letting his cock bob between his thighs. 

He fists Louis’ cock in his hand, holding it steady, and he sinks down once his thighs are on either side of Louis’, going quick and making Louis throw his head back in just a moment of ecstasy. Then he’s regaining some of his composure and gripping Harry’s skinny hips, rubbing into his hipbone where he knows the tattoo is. Harry is already raising up off his cock and slamming back down again, little _uh uh uh_ ’s spilling from his lips as he braces himself on Louis’ shoulders. 

There’s no hair falling into his eyes like there normally would be when Louis fucks him, especially when he’s sitting on Louis’ lap, just like this. Usually little ringlets spill onto his face, and Louis has to reach forward with sure fingers and brush them back behind his ear. Now, though, white stars and blue fabric are keeping his hair surely in place, and Louis really can’t control himself with Harry’s big eyes and pink lips. 

Harry’s still working himself on Louis’ cock, chest exposed with those swallows swooping toward each other and stomach muscles rippling. Louis meets his hips on every downstroke. He curls a hand around the back of Harry’s neck and pulls him closer so their torsos are almost pressing, and Harry’s hard cock rubs against Louis’ warm skin. Louis moves his mouth to the shell of Harry’s ear. 

“You don’t know how hot you are, do you?” Louis murmurs. “Fuck, _fuck._ ” Harry’s still moving in figure eights on top of his cock. “That goddamn _bandana,_ it makes your eyes even bigger, even brighter, and you’re just so _good,_ Harry. You’re so good. You always take so much, babe.”

Harry whines, can’t even manage a full sentence, but he whines a high pitched, “ _Lou_ ,” and continues to work himself on Louis’ cock. 

“You’re almost there, Harry. Come on, love. I can see it.”

“So close,” Harry breathes, but he keeps his hands to Louis’ shoulders, squeezing hard but not pushing it, like he knows. 

Louis pushes a bruise into Harry’s hips with his fingers and sucks one onto his chest with his mouth. “Come on, Harry. Do it now.”

Harry knits his eyebrows and leans forward, capturing Louis’ mouth in a frantic, messy kiss, licking into Louis’ mouth and pulling back with his bandana just off-center and his mouth falling perfectly open as his cock brushes up against Louis’ stomach again and he comes between them. 

Louis keeps fucking up into him, hips working into Harry’s spent and oversensitive body for just a moment more until he comes too, Harry’s name falling from his lips and his fingers rubbing soft circles into Harry’s hips where he pressed too hard almost involuntarily. When he lets go, Harry pulls off and curls into his side, Louis peppering kisses to his forehead and fixing his bandana. 

“You were so good, Haz.” He pats Harry’s head and toys with the folds of the fabric of the bandana. “Love this thing. You’re gorgeous.”

Harry huffs a spent laugh into Louis’ side, just at how all over the place he is. “I guess I’ll keep wearing it again.”

It lasts through most of the American tour. 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments mean so much as always ~


End file.
